


Well Shit, it's the Tethrases

by vecchiofastidioso



Series: Excerpts From a Bard's Life [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Varric/Hawke spawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vecchiofastidioso/pseuds/vecchiofastidioso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Previous works involving a certain freckled and vertically-challenged rogue and her equally vertically-challenged husband have referenced their niblet. Prepare thineselves for some ridiculously proud papa Varric, and the Tethras takeover of Skyhold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reluctant Farewell

         It was painful, knowing she had to leave soon. Varric hadn't been the only one feeling loss at their separation, which was why it didn't take much cajoling from the Dwarf to make Hawke stay longer than she'd intended. Just another day. No, two. No, a week. Wait, wait, wait: there's going to be something of a Wicked Grace tournament in a few days. Well, a storm's rolled in now, Freckles, so might as well stay instead of risking life and limb going through the mountains as sleet, snow, and horrendous winds blow through.  
         Everyone else had long since retired to their own beds (or in Cullen's case, to the Inquisitor's bed) and the servants were clearing up the last tankards and pitchers after another round of Wicked Grace by the time Varric and Aubrey gathered up the scattered cards and put them back in their box. Outside, the wind howled past the outer walls of Skyhold. The sound might be unnerving under other circumstances, considering how dimly-lit the Main Hall was, but Hawke found herself enjoying the feeling of isolation, like she and Varric were ensconced in a dark and warm world where there were no worries about Wardens, Corypheus, or Tevinter cultists. It brought a small smile to her face as she quietly made her way back to her wordsmith.  
         "I'd say 'penny for your thoughts', but I think you cleaned me out that last round, Freckles," Varric murmured when she got close. His hands rested on her hips, warm and steady, a good fit on her body. His thumbs, blunt and thick, rubbed gentle circles on his lover's hips through her clothes with a relaxed smile despite the vaguely accusatory tone the Dwarf had used and his faintly furrowed brow.  
         She knew to trust his hands over his voice though. The storyteller was master over his voice, and often over his expressions. He could tell a story with all the right fluctuations and tonal changes to grab an audience, or he could smoothly recount an event that shook him without it ever showing in his voice, but his hands would give him away. They'd clench on tankard or goblet to hide anguish, grip the armrests of his chair tightly to keep himself from vaulting out of his seat in anger even as he'd make some sardonic comment in response to someone goading him. Now, his hands soothed her, pulled her closer until Aubrey was climbing into the chair with her treasured Dwarf, no matter how he grumbled. "Hmmm...maybe you should ask your wife to front you some coin," she murmured with a soft laugh. "That's the rumour these days: you were heard yelling about being married when you were at Adamant."  
         Varric snorted and leaned back in the chair, still gently massaging his redhead's hips. "Cute, Freckles. Real cute. And who was it who did dumb shit, making me shout about our marriage?"  
         "I haven't the faintest idea~"  
         "Uh-huh. Sure you don't."  
         The sigh Varric let out simply made Hawke giggle and lean forward to kiss her husband, letting her generous backside rest in his lap. Of course, a certain amount of wiggling was required to finally get comfortable, but she eventually let out a sigh of her own. A contented one as opposed to a certain golden-eyed and silver-tongued man's exasperated sigh.

         Andraste's tits, but he was going to miss his wife while she was gone. It had been all too easy to slip back into their old routine, to fit back into each other's lives like they'd never been apart. They still fought together well, kissed each other well, and fit together like matched puzzle pieces. Varric made himself forget what was to come, and simply enjoyed the moment. Now was what mattered. His gloves coming off, the feel of copper curls sliding through his fingers as a hand slid up to cup the back of Aubrey's hair, her breasts gently moulding to his chest with their soft warmth. What mattered was the way his wife melted into him as they settled back in their warm and dimly-lit corner of the hall.  
         He wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to say the words _I'll miss you, Freckles._ No, the Dwarf was going to cuddle his little shit of a spouse and trail kisses over her face as she giggled softly. He was going to gently stroke her jaw with a calloused thumb and smile back at her.

_Freckles--_  
          _I've been doing some thinking. It's frustrating, going months between seeing you and the niblet. You're just about done with the whole "warning the Wardens" thing, but it doesn't look like we're going to take Corypheus down soon. There's a lot of room in this huge-ass hold, even with the army and refugees, and I've talked to the Inquisitor. The wet nurse and Malcolm can come here, and you could just come back here when you're done._  
          _Not going to lie, Aubrey: I hope you'll give the go-ahead. I talk big and say I'm the head of this household, but I won't move our niblet without your say-so._  
          _Hurry up and agree with me! I want to have our family together again. I'll leave it at that, and hopefully you'll whip those Wardens into line soon. My arms are lonely without you, Freckles._  
          _Your Affectionately Domineering Husband,_  
          _Varric_


	2. Anticipation

_Varric--_  
          _Does Sebastian shove Andraste's face between his legs every morning when he gets dressed? Yes: you can tell Nancy (did you honestly forget her name?) to bring Malcolm to Skyhold._  
          _Honestly: I've been worrying about how much time we've all spent apart. You and I are (mostly) fine with letters and semi-frequent rendezvous. But Malcolm is still so young. He doesn't understand why you have to leave whenever you return to Skyhold, and I'm sure he was none too pleased with my departure either. I truly miss him so._  
          _Oh, I miss you too, my silver-tongued rogue. But I suspect you'll forgive me for putting our niblet first._  
          _Now go: make all the necessary preparations as I browbeat Grey Wardens. I'll be there as soon as I can, sweetheart._  
          _Your Naughtily Domineering Wife,_  
          _Aubrey_

         The Dwarf had to chuckle softly as he re-read his wife's saucy signature. Oh, how he loved her. He still had a certain sense of satisfaction and smugness over the fact he'd convinced the confident and independent woman to marry him. Maybe he'd never get over it.  
         Carefully, the rogue re-folded the letter and tucked it away again. Any day now. Any day now, his wife or son would show up. Maybe both at once. Well, Varric was known to be quite the lucky man, somehow lucky at cards and love at the same time. There was a secret to the cards, but that's for another time.  
         He was still thinking about the cards and the possibility of playing Wicked Grace with Her Inquisitorialness and Curly, when a very familiar shriek floated up to the open doors of the main hall. It was an indignant cry, followed by whimpers growing in volume, increasing in pitch, and Varric knew that voice was gearing up for a good round of wailing. Some of the nobles in the hall waiting for the Inquisitor to come back and grant them audience began murmuring their discomfort or disapproval. But the Dwarf, on the other hand, grinned and jogged out of the hall. He quickly made his way down the stairs towards the flustered young woman holding the now-screaming baby on one hip, another baby in a sling against her chest.  
         "Master Tethras!" the poor girl cried out with obvious relief.  
         Varric spared a reassuring smile for the young brunette as he reached for the lustily-crying infant. "I've got him, Nancy."  
         She sighed and relinquished the red-haired (and now red-faced) child into her employer's sturdy arms. "I think 'e's got an earache, messere. 'E began fussin' partway through th' ship voyage, an' it jus' got worse an' worse."  
         "Thanks, Nancy." Varric gently bounced his son, who sniffled and hiccuped a sob. "I think it's safe to say you have your mother's lungs, Malcolm," he chuckled. But the tyke didn't see the humour and let out another unhappy cry, flinging himself against Varric's shoulder just as someone started laughing behind the Dwarf.  
         A questioning glance revealed it was Dorian who laughed, traipsing down the stairs. "So mine ears did not deceive me: you truly _did_ reproduce!" the mage declared with mock astonishment. "I'm amazed the world has not collapsed from the shock. And not only did you reproduce, but with the _Champion of Kirkwall!"_  
         "What can I say?" The wordsmith smirked even as his hand soothingly rubbed Malcolm's back as the baby boy whimpered into Varric's shoulder. "I'm a talented man with fantastic taste."  
         Dorian shook his head as he came close enough to peer at Malcolm without being in reach of the infant. "If you say so. Can't personally see the appeal in having a squalling and wiggling bundle, but by all means: enjoy."  
         "Come on, Sparkles. Malcolm isn't like this all the time," Varric sighed. He turned to mount the stairs up to the main hall without caring if Dorian was following him. Solas would probably be a safer bet than Dorian for looking at the tyke, if the Tevinter was so opposed to the infant. Not that the rogue was surprised. Dorian Pavus of House Pavus was quite fastidious with his appearance and highly self-aware. "His wet nurse thinks he got an earache on the trip over here."  
         "Maker, I would not wish to be trapped in the hold of a ship with a screaming infant."  
         Varric snorted and adjusted his hold on the now-sniffling child so Malcolm would be comfortable (more or less) if the screaming, crying, and overall journey up the mountain wore him out enough for Malcolm to fall asleep. Shit, but he'd...actually missed the whole parenting thing. It kind of hit Varric: his son was there, in his arms, to stay as long as the Dwarf was with the Inquisition. "I don't think either of us can blame him though. The voyage over is shitty." Varric rubbed his child's back gently and pressed a kiss to silky red-gold curls. There was no way he could properly express the feeling of holding his son again, of knowing he could be a part of the child's life again at the end of the day a hell of a lot more than he had for the past year or so. He didn't even bother trying to explain to Dorian. All he did was throw the mage a crooked smirk. "Now if you'll excuse me: I have to see an Elf about a tonic for my son."

 _Freckles--_  
          _Malcolm and Nancy arrived at Skyhold safely. Poor tyke had an earache though when he got here. Understandably, he wasn't exactly on his best behaviour when he met everyone else in the Inquisition inner circle. Chuckles whipped up something though to help Malcolm out. I'm not sure what's more amazing: that it worked, or that Solas made a medicine that didn't smell like shit._  
          _Hurry up and get your lovely ass over here, Freckles. I'm missing the hell out of you. Alright: I also want you where I can watch your back. I don't like the thought of you fighting alone, even though I know you're damned capable. And I don't trust anyone but me with your lovely backside._  
          _Your Lonesome and Frustrated Husband,_  
          _Varric_

         But no letters returned from Weisshaupt.


	3. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last: the final chapter in this short little fic! Um. Yeah. Bit brain-dead on an actual summary. Enjoy more fluffy cuteness from the rogues!

         Varric's footsteps were heavy as he trudged to his new rooms. Having Malcolm and Nancy at Skyhold necessitated more space, and some distance from any rowdiness so Nancy's kid and Malcolm were more likely to sleep through the night. Also, the Dwarf had eagerly anticipated his wife's return. He didn't plan on sharing that with half of Skyhold.  
         But it had been weeks now since they last heard anything from Weisshaupt. Nothing from Hawke. Nothing from the Wardens.  
         He gathered himself up to present a cheerful front for his son. Poor niblet didn't need stress from Varric's anxieties. So with a deep breath and a (seemingly) relaxed smile, the Dwarf opened the door to his son's room.

         This wasn't the first time Aubrey announced her presence in Skyhold with breasts bared to her husband.  
         Again, she wore the duster that was a favourite of both rogues. But she actually had leggings on this time and a shirt (though that was open to let her son nurse). Still: Varric stared.  
         "Well, well, well: I've managed to surprise you twice in one year, and leave you speechless. I should get an award."  
         Aubrey couldn't help grinning as Varric let out a quiet, strangled, "Damn it, Freckles!" He was cute--yes, she sometimes thought him "cute" instead of "handsome" or "charming"--when he tried so hard to keep from disturbing or startling their son.  
         "Can you really blame me for enjoying it when I can actually get the drop on you?" she murmured as Varric shucked gloves, boots, and duster on his way to mother and child.  
         His calloused fingertips grazed her cheek and curled in her hair, making the Champion's bright blue eyes drift shut shortly before Varric leaned in for a tender kiss that left her chest aching. Maker, but she'd missed Varric. It had been Aubrey's decision to go warn Weisshaupt what Corypheus and the Venatori were capable of. That didn't mean she stopped being a loving wife and mother, happy to be with her little family.  
         "No, I suppose I can't blame you..."  
         "Mmm...I knew I married a very understanding Dwarf..."  
         His rumbling chuckle had Malcolm pop off Aubrey's breast with a startled sound that made both parents laugh. "Yes, Daddy is home too," Aubrey laughed as she switched which breast Malcolm was on.  
         As Varric kissed her forehead, resting his hand on their son's back, Aubrey had to admit she was finally home again too.

         Varric had every intention of giving Aubrey a blistering lecture on keeping properly in touch and on letting him know she was safe. But watching her slip so easily into her role of mother to Malcolm and wife to himself had the irritation and residual panic melting away. Her soft humming to their son as the Dwarf pulled away to properly put away his gear had Varric relaxing. He even began rumbling out a harmony to her sweet soprano and flashed a smile at her when blue eyes lifted to meet his gaze.  
         This was what he'd been missing these past several months. He'd missed accepting a freshly-burped infant, changing the little boy's cloth before bundling him up for bed. He'd missed administering good-night kisses to his child with Aubrey at his side, both of them watching the redheaded tot settle into his cot. It soothed something inside of Varric to reach out and have his curvy wife right there for his arm to curl around.  
         "He started eating solid food while I was away," Varric noted softly, the observation confirmed by a nod of Aubrey's head.  
         "We can probably wean Malcolm off nursing soon..."  
         The Dwarf caught the wistful tone to his wife's voice and slanted a glance over at the ginger. "Do I detect a hint of sadness?"  
         As he led the Champion over to his bed--their bed--Varric's query was met with a sigh. "I missed out on several months of Malcolm's life. He is almost two now. Soon he will be running, and speaking in full sentences. Then he'll learn how to read and write. It feels like if I blink, he'll be 16 and off to prove himself like Carver."  
         "From what you and Bethany have said about your younger brother, I sincerely hope our son is nothing like his dearly departed uncle."  
         A not-so-delicate snort was his wife's response as Varric knelt down to work Aubrey's boots off. "I think one of Carver's problems was he had the awkward position of a twin and a middle child. He was so often lumped in with Bethany, or her magic came first in our parents' concerns. Then I was...apparently a hard act to follow."  
         The Dwarf bit back a snicker, working leather leggings off over toned but generous thighs and curved calves, dropping a kiss to his Lady Hawke's knee. "It's damned impossible to find anyone who measures up to you, Freckles." His golden gaze drifted up to watch his lady's eyes flutter closed as he massaged slowly at the instep of her right foot. "Not your fault though. So stop beating yourself up over your baby brother."  
         "How'd you know?"  
         "How long have we been married?"  
         "Um...three, almost four years?"  
         Varric switched feet, earning a grateful groan from the freckled rogue. "And how long was I courting you?"  
         It was obvious that question stumped Aubrey as she rolled her head on her neck. "Two years?"  
         "Try more like five years." The storyteller laughed and rose to join his wife on the bed as she looked at him incredulously. "What can I say? You left an impression, Freckles. You didn't need money to be compelling. You got me with that first sassy remark about how you hoped I had some kind of idea where I could get the kind of coin you needed to be our partner in the expedition. Watching you kick ass on the Wounded Coast merely cinched it."  
         "Why did it take you so long to say something?!"  
         The Dwarf shrugged as he draped his arm over his wife's waist. "I'm...admittedly...more traditional Dwarf than I'd like to be, I guess. I usually go for Dwarven barmaids! It wasn't exactly easy for me to admit I'd fallen for a human, no matter how many people around us found you attractive," he grumbled defensively. "Plus, you were understandably a bit busy worrying about your family." Which was part of what really cemented the fact Varric was into her for more than just her bosom.  
         Her fingers gently ran up the Dwarf's arm, tangling in the hair there, while Aubrey turned her head to level those bright blue eyes of hers at Varric. "That's very sweet, Varric."  
         "You sound like Daisy."  
         Aubrey covered her mouth to smother her giggle so Malcolm wouldn't wake. Varric, on the other hand, smirked unrepentantly at his saucy wife. Yeah...this was what he needed. Just needed his family all back together.  
         "You, serah, are horrible."  
         He chuckled and stole a kiss. "No, I'm not."  
         "Mmm...maybe not..."  
         "Get some sleep, Freckles." Varric dropped one more kiss on his Hawke's lips as he pulled up the blankets. "We're going to have a busy day tomorrow once everyone realises you're here."


End file.
